Published 7:00 pm, Saturday, December 9, 2006

It was hard for me even when I was little, as my parents most likely can confirm. I remember a few elbows (accidentally, of course!) puncturing the oddly shaped yet oh-so-precisely wrapped presents that were put under the tree early, and how many times my brother and I could pull up the tape on the flaps at the end of the packages before the sticky wore out and we'd get busted.

Then there was the year the both of us put our heads together and thought something like this: "Hey! If we can't get a good look at 'em after they're wrapped, what about BEFORE?"

So, we set out on our after school quest (you know, that short but magical time between getting off the bus and when our parents got home) to find our Christmas presents.

You're probably thinking we were ungrateful kids, ruining the surprise for ourselves, but we didn't look at it that way. If anything, knowing what our loving parents had chosen to give us and not being able to play with it really made matters worse. And we HAD to wait until Christmas.

Back to the search. The Christmas in question, my brother found the mother lode in mom and dad's bedroom closet, box after box stacked on top of each other at the far end. And the item I'd asked for that year, a stereo with detachable speakers and two tape decks, was there! Woohoo!

My joy was shortlived, because for some stupid reason, Scott and I did what siblings 1 1/2 years apart do best, and fights meant paybacks. I guess that's just what kids do when we're too dumb to realize we can accomplish more by working together than by arguing.

OK, so what's the best way for one sibling to get back at the other? Yup, the turd ratted out his big sister, making it 10 times worse by telling mom it was all MY idea! So not fair!

Fast forward to Christmas morning. We unwrapped present after present, and I remember scanning all that was set before me with a sinking feeling in my gut. That huge rectangular stereo box wasn't there! Mom did, however, hand me an oddly shaped box, and I should have known by the evil glint in her dark - very dark - brown eyes, that something was up.

I wanted to cry when I unwrapped it, the sinking in my gut verified by the sight of one detachable speaker. Just one.

Okay, okay, I learned my lesson the hard way. Let me share:

It doesn't matter if you've outgrown believing in Santa or not. He always checks his list for who've been naughty and who've been nice, and one way or another the naughty ones will be caught.